


Take It There

by kalika_999



Series: Jack and Brock's misadventures [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Barebacking, Disabled Character, Drunkenness, Falling In Love, Feelings, Gentle Sex, HYDRA Husbands, Husbands style, Insecurity, M/M, My friend likes it so she gets it, Office Party, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex, Strangers to Lovers, Swearing, it's just a fic, practice safe sex though :)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 13:33:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7803853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/pseuds/kalika_999
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack's about done with this office party and he's only been here less than an hour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take It There

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StarSpangledBucky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarSpangledBucky/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Возьму тебя себе](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9298211) by [Saysly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saysly/pseuds/Saysly)



> Happy Birthday! I know it's a few days late but you know what I had in my way prior to this so I hope I'm forgiven. :3  
> ~It’s been over a year and honestly I feel like I’ve known you for longer but also at the same time I still feel like I can’t believe it’s been a year. I’m glad to have met you and even though we’re miles away I feel like you're always beside me tossing books at my head for writing sad things. <3 Love you lots~  
> Oh! I tried something different, hope you don't mind being a guinea pig lol  
> Note 1: Also, I tried to sprinkle in some of your Jack HC’s and a splash of your insecure!Brock so if it’s awful forgive me lol  
> Note 2: Okay this came out angstier and more emotional than I planned. Well shit. 
> 
> Title from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hWSt_q7M3zI) by Massive Attack ft Tricky & 3D which I listened to on repeat way too many times because I love it and I said I would write a 2k HH smut to it and yeah I fucked up.
> 
> Yo, disclaimer, there’s barebacking because this world doesn’t exist but be safe in real life :3

Fifty five minutes in and Jack was already regretting coming to this.

“This party is great!” Johnson’s yelling at everyone and no one all at once, his tie’s already undone and the top two buttons on his shirt opened, a yellow drink in hand with a slice of pineapple hanging off it and he was shit faced like most of the employees. A large number of them were smart enough to drink before arriving to the office party to celebrate another milestone or something, Rollins isn’t entirely sure anymore. He took a few drinks before he got here once he was told by Bucky and of course his fair haired lover Steve that he was going whether he wanted to or not. Both of them together could bench press him and they only forced when they meant well so he prepped instead. Compared to about 95% of the guests, he was sober as all hell.

Bucky throws an arm around him, his hand clutching onto vodka on the rocks practically sweating through his dark blue dress shirt, “How do you like the party?!”

Jack grins painfully through grit teeth, the music’s gone a couple decibels louder he’s pretty sure and it’s vibrating through him while Bucky’s trying to yell even louder to someone he knows standing next to him. He’s gonna be lucky if he doesn’t go deaf before the night’s over. His friend is clinging to him for dear life and looking around, spilling half his drink over the front of Jack’s shirt and he would be mad if it wasn’t A.) Bucky; one of his best friends and B.) hot as Satan’s ass crack in here. He wasn’t all that worried about his shirt anyway, he wore something that wasn’t brand new and saving it wasn’t a big deal. He was pretty sure Johnson touched his shoulder earlier while drinking a cosmo that he definitely saw spilling over his hand right when he got it so he was fucked either way.

Barnes drops his head lopsidedly on Jack’s shoulder groaning a little, “Jack, Jack I can’t feel my arm..”

Rollins can only frown, glaring when Bucky lifts his head and stares at his left stump, “Oh right I don’t have a left arm!”

He cracks up and Jack rolls his eyes, there’d be something amiss if his friend didn’t throw that joke out every damn fucking time he was drunk. 

Jack’s getting jabbed in the side when Bucky’s leaning in closer and eyeballing his boyfriend from across the room dancing like an idiot by the DJ table with Sam, “Hey, you see that hot blond. Imma, I’m sooo gonna take him home tonight wanna bet?”

“No. That blond’s probably a total skank, ain’t gonna bet on a sure thing Buck.”

Bucky just stares at him glassy eyed in disbelief before he bursts out laughing, slapping the wet spot on Jack’s shirt _with_ his drink so he just received a very cold shower and his friend is outta vodka. Bucky’s leaning in so hard Jack has to put an arm around him to keep him still, mouth by his ear, “Lisstenn Jackie, I think that guy over there is checkin’ you oouut.”

Jack knows he’s pointing but there’s a ton of people around and a lot of them he doesn’t know. Still, Bucky’s got an eagle eye no matter how drunk though he does have an entire drink on the front of his shirt because his friend’s an idiot so that could be why he has some strangers attention. 

“Over this wayyy," The glass gone..fuck knows where, Bucky’s hand grabs the back of Jack’s skull and turns it just to the right showing him a guy with jet black hair chatting close with Natasha from marketing, something amber and smooth in his glass and he’s got a wide sly grin on his face. “Him, that guy. He’s checkin’ you out Jackie boy!”

If the music wasn’t so damn loud he woulda told Bucky to shut the hell up but he only looks away instead when he feels eyes about to look over. Bucky begins dancing on the spot where he’s standing when a new song pops on and a few seconds later Jack starts mimicking in boredom because he has no real fucking idea what he’s doing here, their arms locked tight side to side.

“Hey are you stealin’ my boyfriend?!” A hard body crashes into his other side and he’s sandwiched in between two men built like brick houses that are cuddling into him but also petting each other with him trapped in there. “He’s really rough in bed you know.”

Rogers is so drunk he can barely keep his eyes open, his face falling into Jack’s shoulder over and over again and his eyes opening wide then drooping, he’s pretty sure he’s attempted winking at Bucky a second ago but it looked like he was having a seizure of some sort.

“Come on, dance with me Jack!” Steve’s suddenly yelling out and swaying him with his body, Bucky picks up on it and he’s swaying, Jack is completely stuck in between and he’s going to put dirt in their coffee filter and start it up tomorrow so they think its fresh brew while hungover and they can both choke on it.

“He’s not having fun!”

Suddenly Steve stops with a gasp, clutching tighter to Jack’s arm, “Why not?!”

Jack’s rolling his eyes, “Because I got vodka all over me and it’s hot as fuck in here and you two idiots aren’t letting me move anyway.”

Bucky was suddenly off him, looking around angrily, “Who fuckin’ threw their drink on you I’ll punch ‘em in the face I don’t care if I get fired, you’re all assholes!”

Steve stumbles toward his boyfriend, throwing his arms around him and they begin making out like teenagers but at least Jack was free again, inching away from the pair of them warily before they starting grab assing beside him, nevermind they were already grab assing.

He wanders over to the finger food and silently judges the vegetable platter no one in their damn mind really wants when they’re shit faced and suddenly he has a new person pressing close beside him, Sam grinning like a mad man. “Hey man you gotta dance out here, it’s the greatest thing!”

Wilson’s double fisting two zombie’s and one’s almost finished, the glass set down between some cookies and a sad looking platter of Cheezits, “Rollins you gotta let loose and let go, you’re so _on_ all the time! I know you got a great office and you’re supposed to be a manager but it’s a part-ey! Live a little and have some fun!”

In Jack’s defense he can live a little very well, just that he’s not into doing it around people he might see the next Monday in the office building even if everyone’s from departments on various floors and a lot of them are scattered about. The last time he let go him and Bucky were streaking through a sorority house and riding horses they stole. He’s not exactly sure what happened to those horses, there was nothing in the papers so he assumes they were safe, he hopes. Waking up in someone’s house in a neighborhood you didn’t know butt naked was real sketchy even if one of your best friends was beside you asleep, though Bucky was in a gorilla mask and a candy bikini. He figured as long as neither of them had a sore ass it was okay.

“You gotta just do it!” Sam’s tossing his arms around this way and that like he’s in some ride at Coney Island instead of standing up in a room full of people. He makes an effort not to get hit with raining fruit juice and rum moving aside just barely but almost colliding into a pair of interns giggling away about something.

Sam manages to snake an arm around his back and lean in taking a long sip of his drink that’s spilled over his shirt in dribbles and Jack seriously wonders why he has a talent for making friends with people that need bibs. 

When Barton the mail clerk guy starts yelling from fuck nowhere and distracts Sam, Jack makes his getaway stepping backwards and off to the side and bumps into someone else. He’s turning to apologize when he realizes he’s facing the guy Nat was talking to. The one he doesn’t think he’s ever seen because he would remember those copper brown eyes and that insanely hot head of black hair with that vicious stubble and muscles because this guy obviously takes the line ‘office party’ with a grain of salt since he’s in black long shorts and a black tank top like he just came from the gym which is a distinct possibility and guys like him shouldn’t be in Jack’s vicinity. There’s bad news all over this guy, bruised knuckles and a fading black eye and a smirk that immediately convinces Rollins he’s fucked at least for this one night or well this guy would be technically fucked. Jack’s also slightly drunk, just a little and like he said, it’s too fucking hot.

“I was wondering when your friends were finally gonna shove off.” His mouth is playing around, subtly licking lips and smiling a little wry like he knows what Jack’s thinking about and people should never know what Jack’s thinking about. 

“Brock Rumlow.” He almost cheerfully supplies while Jack is still trying to pick his brain up because this guy is _deadly_ and way too fucking attractive, a hand held out. 

Jack’s blinking at it for a second because his brain decides it’s going on vacation finally pitying him enough to allow him to bring his hand out and shake, remembering to say _Jack Rollins_ at some rate while still staring at the way he’s smirking away and sipping on what he assumes is whiskey with one ice cube floating at the top like he’s not stuck with inebriated morons and he’s just at home having a night cap though his clothes and those bruises say he’s about to join an MMA or has. It suddenly dawns on Jack what activity would be great when those two are combined.

Evidently Rumlow isn’t about to beat around the bush, his mouth quirks around the edge of the glass staring at him like he’s planning every detail out in his head, his eyes running down Jack’s body with no qualms about it, “So Jack Rollins, wanna get the fuck outta here?”

“God yes.” Doesn’t come out fast enough.

Jack’s already half hard by the time they get a cab and tuck themselves into the back seat. They’re both taking each other in gauging silently. Brock’s eyes roving shamelessly all over Jack’s tall frame, his hands to himself but Jack knows he’s being mentally undressed. Brock’s teeth worrying away a spot at the corner of his mouth, tongue licking away at lips and constantly watching Jack like he’s going to devour him whole.

Jack really hopes he does.

It’s not like any of this is new, Jack has experience taking home a many number of hot, sexy strangers but like he was thinking earlier, never someone from work except, Brock Rumlow was a real exception, a compromise Jack refused to backtrack on. 

All Jack’s doing is _staring_ at this man beside him who is watching him like a hungry animal, Jack giving him the key to the city and Brock’s eyes pause at various parts of Jack’s body, his face where he has an aging scar that people seem to like very much, his muscular arms pressed away under his shirt, his chest doing the same and Brock just _looks_ unashamed and a wolfish smile appears across his lips with a noise he barely hears at the back of his throat. Jack knows if he wasn’t already interested he would have been with that alone taking the time to admire Brock with his muscular wiry frame like a boxer..Jack’s finally realizing he _has_ seen him before. The weight room the one time he decided to go check it out and went on his lunch break, others already there but he had absently looked over towards the punching bags and there was Brock with earbuds in and paying no mind to anyone else in the room. 

Brock’s eyes meet Jack’s taking him out of his own memory and he smiles wide like he’s aware completely and now Jack’s wondering about if he was caught in his trap a long while ago and just never knew it.

The air’s insanely thick with pulsing sexual energy and they both barely notice the cab’s stopped in front of Jack’s apartment for over a minute, the cabbie politely clears his throat and announces how much they owe him. Jack’s fumbling for his wallet but Brock’s already got a bill folded between his fingertips without taking his eyes off Jack and muttering for the driver to keep the change. Jack’s out first and rifling his pants pocket for his keys and cursing to himself before he finally finds it buried deep in the corner while Brock is trailing a little and staring up at the sky like it’s something else entirely. 

A small grunt of victory slips out of him when he’s gotten the door unlocked and they move inside to get on the elevator; Rumlow’s eyes continuously watching him like a predator and then they’re finally off and moving to his apartment door. Unlocking it quickly Jack takes one step into the entryway, turning to introduce it to Brock except that he’s already up close and pushing him inside with a swift kick to the door to close it and pressing into his personal space. 

Warm palms press into his broad chest and those eyes are penetrating into him, Brock’s a head shorter but the _power_ , Jack’s back hitting the wall, his own hands pressed around Brock’s biceps and he can’t help but squeeze when suddenly there’s a mouth on his ravenous and heated kissing him hard. Before Jack can really press into it, Rumlow’s pulled away and his eyes are dancing over his face studying him with a smirk like nothing happened.

“I got curious, I ain’t good at waitin’ sometimes.”

Snorting to that, they both kick off their shoes and Jack’s leading him through his modest one bedroom apartment. It has everything he’s wanted and it was recently renovated in slate grey and deep rich browns. Everything had a place and everything was in its place, Brock pausing at the coffee table to stare at the records he had laid out from earlier before his friends kidnapped him. Jack watches him look over to the tall bookshelf full of vinyl’s and he picks one of the covers up to study the artwork before he flips it to the other side to read the track list and turning back to give him another smirk.

“So you’re old school huh? What’re you like 50?”

“More or less.” He shoots back sarcastically, it’s not what he really expected, usually everyone lectures him about being behind on the times while they attempt to run his life in some way to make it easier for him when he never asked for that shit. Brock only goes back to reading another with a shake of his head like he _wants_ to make fun of him but instead puts one on, lifting the clear cover of the record player and sliding the record out of it’s sleeve with a handle and ease like its nothing new. It’s minor, shouldn’t get Jack more turned on than he already is but he is, anyone else that handles his records create a living nightmare for him. Brock on the other hand sets the needle down without dragging or scratching it and has a look on his face like he knows how good it’s going to sound.

“Huh, never had someone my own age mocking me for what I like, most of your friends must be dead in your old age.”

Brock turns his head shooting him a look that’s got Jack wondering if he misjudged the guy and he’s about to be left with only his hand to do the dirty work. Brock blinks for a second before breaking out into a laugh, thick and hearty doing something to Jack like he needs to make sure the man never stops laughing like that ever. It’s unguarded and his eyes crinkle just a little at the corners, a grin swept across his features so perfect he wants to laugh so badly himself.

“I didn’t take ya for havin’ a sharp tongue.”

“I have a feeling I’d need it for someone like you.”

Rumlow nods like he’s been found out, a glimmer of fondness in it. He moves to the shelf next to his records, just as tall as the other but this one filled to the brim with books of different topics and stories. He pulls out War and Peace, balancing the heft in his hand before putting it back.

“Have you even read that monster or are you just all show?”

Jack tucks his hands behind his back, “A few times actually.”

“You know it’s beside the Joy of Cookin’, right?”

“I’ve been meaning to put some kind of order to it but I’ve never had time. Do you like reading?”

He watched Brock file through other books, pulling at spines then pushing them back in scoffing at the question, “I hate readin’ unless I wanna sleep for a while. Too borin’ for my tastes.” 

Jack watches him stare out the window a second, “I used to, when I was a little kid but my pops said I got better things I need to be doin’ with my time. Kinda lost the urge to after that.” 

Brock realizes he’s rambling, getting too intimate with someone he’s supposed to only have one night with and even though Jack’s looking at him open and interested in listening Brock shrugs like he’s internally telling himself that it’s stupid what he just did, fists clenching and color reaching his face as he goes back to looking at the spines of the books with more regard than he was a second ago. 

“So is that what you are Rollins, a book nerd that listens to vinyl records all day? Are you gunnin’ for advanced age? Or..” He turns to look at the small tiny dining table with two chairs and the half kitchen beside it, expensive pots and pans hanging off butcher hooks overhead of a gas stove and a miniature wine chiller inconspicuously sitting on the counter next to the fridge, “..You shootin’ for the fancy livin’ lonely guy look?”

Jack grins, he can’t help it. As much as Brock seems to be mocking him, there’s a light of interest he’s harboring around his things and he can’t help like it a lot. He likes him and barely even knows him.

The thing is, the longer he looks at Brock the worse he feels about the situation because unlike any other one night stand he’s gotten into he’s starting to really like him. They haven’t even gotten naked yet and his mind’s supplying ideas for experimental breakfast dishes he could try out on him and omelets filled with farm fresh vegetables, different meats from around the world and perfectly aged cheeses that he purchases from the local Farmer’s market. He wants Brock to tell him about his life while they have coffee with the sunlight brushing along one of his bare shoulders and his dark hair a mess but perfect at the same time wearing a pair of Jack’s sweats that hang dangerously low off his hips and a gaze that offers himself to morning sex oh so readily whenever Jack wants it.

Jack wants to date him and he’s not sure if he’s ever going to see him again.

“I guess I’m shooting for both.”

Brock hums in acknowledgment but seems to not agree with either suggestion. He turns to go back to the bookshelf when his foot accidentally bumps into a black leather Ottoman just big enough for one person to sit on pushed against the wall and looking innocent enough but the seat doesn’t sit right and before Brock can stop himself he flips the top to see it filled with toys. He turns with a raised brow and Jack’s shrugging immediately.

“Neighbor’s kids. She drops them off or I go over there from time to time if she can get an extra shift on the weekend and if I’m free I watch them. After only a couple of visits I decided to buy some things they’d like so when they were here it wasn’t so..”

“Like visitin’ a museum?”

“It’s not that bad,” Green eyes gaze at Brock, “You always this judgmental before you’re about to have sex with someone?”

“Consider it foreplay.” Brock says, flashing a sharp smile like he’s challenging him and it only sparks a flare of heat inside of Jack.

It takes Jack exactly two swift and wide strides past the coffee table to be at Brock’s side and he’s pulling him into a rough bruising kiss, bold and tilting his head just in the right angle to invade Brock’s mouth and bury fingers into that lush head of black hair and grip it between his fingers, swallowing down a moan slipping out of Brock. Jack doesn’t mean to be so aggressive but it’s something about Brock that he just can’t put his finger on that makes Jack want to _take_ all in an instant and he can’t stop himself. 

The moment they break apart for air, Jack finds he’s pressed Brock into the wall he was standing beside and caged he’s him in, a surprised and pleased look across Brock’s face, running his tongue across flushed swollen red lips and looking at him with hungry dark eyes. He throws an arm around Jack’s neck to bring him in and back into another kiss, Jack audibly hearing the way Brock bumps his head against the wall from the force of the pull not that he much seems hurt from it, his hands roving and grabbing at Jack’s hips and ass. He’s pressing desperate fingers into Jack’s lower back as he moans for more of him and Jack’s nipping his lip and kissing him hard. He’s blindly pawing Brock towards the hallway, the both of them lip locked and maneuvering around furniture until they hit the hallway wall hard and a framed painting Steve did crashes loudly to the floor and the glass shatters. 

“Sorry,” Brock mutters out, trying to catch his breath as he’s got his arms wrapped around Jack’s neck, peeking down by their feet and he doesn’t much sound sorry but Jack accepts it nonetheless, “Didn’t see where I was movin’.”

Jack pushes him down the hall with a smirk, his friend’ll forgive him and in the mean time he’s busy. Hands roving down Brock’s sides and his ass, kisses dancing along the back of his neck while they both try to shuffle into the bedroom. He’s bumping into Brock’s back who’s stopped to look out his floor to ceiling windows at the city lights glittering like a sea of colorful stars for them and Brock’s appreciating it in silence like Jack always does. 

He takes advantage of the precious seconds to really enjoy Brock, his hand slipping under his tank top feeling out tight chiseled muscles while his mouth marks more of his tanned skin. It’s over before anything can really happen and Jack’s pushed to sit down onto the end of his bed. 

Standing before him, Brock’s strong thick fingers deftly undo the buttons of his shirt pausing at the start to inhale the scent of vodka over it with a chuckle, still mildly damp not that Jack could really blame Bucky in his drunken state who was set to fight himself for his honor because of it. He’s worked out of it and Brock moves his hands down to quickly make an example out of his belt, tossing it absently to the floor. He’s expertly unzipping his fly and the top button on his slacks, pulling them open while his other hand hooks to the waistband of his boxers to pull him out. There’s a look in Rumlow’s eyes that Jack’s seen with a few guys he’s messed around with, like they found the prize and it shoots a thrill of excitement up his spine like flames licking up gasoline and pride blooms through him.

Jack can’t help the huff of air escaping him, firm calloused fingers gripping tight around his cock, Brock’s eyes taking a second to look him over like he’s fascinated at watching him getting hard and taking him in like a feast before glancing up and staring into his eyes. In return Jack’s immediately lost in his, breath catching in his throat as Brock strokes him slowly taking in every reaction and change of breath. 

They’re staring at each other and Jack wants to touch him but he doesn’t, just watching him instead while Brock works his cock with a precise strong hand, tongue swiping across his bottom lip before he much too quickly draws back from him, Jack trying hard not to protest in any way as he watches the man before him take a step back. He reaches a hand behind him, tugging at the back of his tank top to pull it over his head; the motion so smooth and fluid revealing powerful lines like Brock was carved from living marble his muscles rippling beneath his skin and Jack can’t describe just how breathtaking Brock is.

Brock’s practically teasing him after tossing his top away somewhere to the side, breathing in slow and Jack watches the way his breath undulates his body in calm waves, his palms moving down his torso and to the gathered waist of his shorts. No unnecessary belts or zipper fly’s to deal with, just a knot thats tied in a simple bow at his center and Brock could easily undo it with one tug and yet he doesn’t, wrapping one finger around one of the strings but leaving his hand there staring at Jack coyly. 

“You know how long I’ve been watchin’ you? _Wantin’_ you?”

At first Jack can’t think, speechless that Brock sounds like he’s been an object of his affection for a while now and he wished he knew wondering where he was watching him from, his cock twitching in interest. A small smirk appears across his lips reading Jack’s expression as he tugs the string of his shorts with a knowing nod, turning his bare back to him, moving his head to the side.

“Yeah Jackie boy, a _long_ time..” He lets out breathlessly like he’s telling a secret which he is but it’s laced with a smugness Jack can see because Brock now knows Jack wants him just as badly.

Jack abruptly notes, with a soft choked gasp stuck within his throat, that Brock isn’t wearing underwear when his shorts drop and while Jack’s lost in how good he thought Brock’s ass looked clothed it’s _nothing_ compared to how good it looks uncovered. Brock’s turning around while Jack’s still lost in his mind staring at tan golden colored skin and the smooth definition of muscles, arms tense as they rest on sharp hips, he’s stocky but solid and agile and all Jack wants to do is pick him up and pin him to the wall. 

A clearing of throat snaps Jack’s eyes to meet Brock’s, one brow lifted with a smirk but the color around his upper body says something else, biceps twitching slightly and Brock’s suddenly glancing away with pink tinged ears and Jack’s enamored by it. Could someone like him, so bold and strong actually be a little insecure?

“Just gonna just stare or what?” Copper colored eyes looking back at him again, they’re sharp when they meet but almost immediately they soften again like they were guarding themselves before Jack got there, his bold call out only ending up coming out as a question like he needed some little note of reassurance and Jack can only smile warmly up at him. A questioning gaze looking back.

“You’re beautiful.”

It’s enough to wipe the smirk off Brock’s face, features shifting all at once to laugh softly like Jack told a silly joke but it only comes out surprised and maybe a little confused. He’s looking awkward and Jack can only stare, just at his face, taking in every second of it his smile never leaving his own face. He finds this side of Rumlow so endearing and he’s not sure he was supposed to find out about it.

Brock breaks the gaze by moving closer and the illusion is all broken away when he realizes how close he is and how hard he is before him. He wants to touch him, grab and pull him over, ravish him, run his mouth all over every inch of his skin but he also wants to relish in the one night they have together not wanting it to end too soon.

He watches Brock sink down to his knees, both together at the edge of the bed, his fingers stroking him lightly again. The moment Jack makes a slight movement to get into it Brock’s drawing away just to rid him of his last remaining pieces of clothing. Brock gets up only to direct him back to lay his head on the pillows, following and crawling in after him and Jack can’t stop staring at his naked form. Hands press along Jack’s tense thighs, rubbing them in a gentle motion and coaxing them to part a little wider with Brock locking eyes before he bows his head down and takes him into his mouth without anything much of a warning. 

Jack’s fingers grasp at the sheets in surprise, Brock humming around him and fingers curled around the base, Jack’s hand quickly shifting to one into Brock’s hair the tips of his fingers grazing his scalp only to hear Brock moan lightly; his mouth feeling to hot and wet, sealed tight around and _gazing_ up at him. Jack can’t help feeling like he’s having a religious moment, never feeling like this before with someone especially while like _this_.

Brock’s lips are red and bruised, swollen around his cock, Jack’s fingers can’t help petting him and admiring how gorgeous he looks between his legs and how he tends to him, his mouth working slow and lazy like he’s got all the time in the world and could live on his dick forever. Jack can’t help feeling awestruck by it, distracted by the smooth and careful bob of Brock’s head, sinking down even further while his hand glides along Jack’s thigh, the other retrieving the lube from off the night table and shoving into one of his hands.

Brock’s watching him in silent command, Jack lost in a daze temporarily, his cumbersome mind finally opening the bottle to squeeze some of the lube onto his fingers coating them generously Jack’s other hand tugging Brock beside him and paying no mind to the protests his cock wants to make. He presses his mouth to Brock’s for a kiss, tongue ravaging his mouth again and kissing him hard, his hand hovering along the heat radiating off Brock’s skin and down between his legs slipping a slick finger into his hole, feeling a rush of warm air pushing against his mouth. 

He moves his arm in to leisurely roll Brock partially onto his side against him to access him easier draping his arm against his hip while he’s slipping a second finger in, stretching and working him open. His mouth bruises against Brock’s lips and they’re kissing each other like there could be no one else, Jack tilting his head just so to lick into Brock’s mouth and almost groans at the slow whine rising from the back of Rumlow’s throat. 

It takes him a moment, fingers working in when Brock suddenly breaks from their kiss, jumping in startled surprise with a choked gasp as he shuts his eyes. The hands clutching at Jack’s bicep digs and claws at him while Jack slides in another slick finger and brushes against the spot again and Brock’s simultaneously trying to cling to Jack and arch away from him. His hands moving to press against Jack’s back, dull nails dragging down and panting out helplessly.

“Jack..”

Brock’s squirming for more, breathless and mouth drawn open, pushing his ass back attempting to fuck himself on three fingers. The wet obscene squelching sound echoing into the darkness as Jack continues playing with him three knuckles deep.

“ _Jackie_..” 

Brock’s voice urgent and lofty, stirring Jack on further as he watches Brock’s head drop back to expose his throat almost falling against the sheets, presenting to him like he’s some prize he should ruin. Jack growls softly at the back of his throat, sucking into a spot on Brock’s neck, a pinch of skin between his lips and worrying at it with his teeth before he moves his nose to nuzzle the tender spot and then carry on leaving a path of hickey’s in its wake.

Jack’s pressing in soft kisses tracing the curve of Brock’s throat with his lips and then the dip and hollow of his collarbone before Brock whines helplessly at fingers teasing and brushing his prostate once in a while, the moments Jack does long and far between just wanting Brock pliant and sweet for him. Green eyes meet a dark needy gaze in, smiling with a reassuring nod, “Don't worry, I’m gonna take care of you Sweetheart.”

Barely able to nod and keening to the nickname, Brock presses his face against Jack’s chasing the sensation of fingers hitting him just right. His body writhing and squirming against the sheets whenever Jack’s hitting his prostate, strong perfect muscles twitching in response covered in a thin veil of sweat across his body.

He’s practically drunk off it when he finally can’t take anymore and gasps out, “Jack!”

“I got you Brock..”

There’s a whimpered sad sob of a sound escaping Brock’s lips when Jack withdraws his fingers, hands clinging tighter to him with a vice grip, eyes damp and desperate as they beg Jack to make everything right again and Jack can only nod to him, planting a gentle kiss against his lips, promising that he will. 

He finds one of the condoms on his night table, a lone hand stroking Brock’s thigh as he uses teeth to get the wrapper open, eyes fixated on the man beneath him when Brock suddenly stops him with an uncomfortable look seemingly not wanting to ask what he’s about to ask.

“I want, um, I’m clean, I have to take monthly tests and I haven’t done it with anyone for about a month and a half because I’ve been trying to get with- ” He’s suddenly stopping himself and the begging mess that was there a moment ago is momentarily gone when he realizes how creepy he sounds. He’s rubbing a hand over his chin in embarrassment, "I mean, if you’re clean and you wanna. Do it without..”

Jack tries not to smile, but it’s hard not to. It’s one thing to want someone from afar, it’s another not having sex in hopes maybe one day you will with the person you want to do it with, “I’m clean too, but you sure?”

Brock’s nodding, “Very sure. If it’s just one night, I wanna enjoy it fully.” 

A little hazy, Rumlow languidly moves to roll onto his stomach for Jack but the hand on his skin pauses at his hip, slight pressure and hopeful green eyes meeting Brock’s lust filled coppery browns. Jack hesitates for a second, but only for a second, leaning in on impulse to kiss him, quick and light. He’s looking him over again, “Can we do it like this? I wanna see your face.”

It’s became Brock’s turn now to look unsure, he blinks slowly and stares sounding a little confused, “You do?”

And there’s that _something_ again from Rumlow, some insecurity he seems to harbor behind his cocky facade and muscles. The image Jack is intrigued by but not as much as the one he’s trying to hide away from him, the one he wants to unveil and bring out of him for Jack to encourage and take care of.

_Take care of._

Jack’s never felt like that, wanted that like he wants to for Brock, this man that sought him out and not the other way around. He wants to spend the days away taking every detail of him and every sound he makes. Wants to absorb him if Brock will let him and it’s frightening just how much Jack had grown attached already, especially since it’s only one night. In this one night he’s already seen how Brock takes what he wants with the expectation that it won’t be forever, that any sort of compliment is met with disbelief because he’s most likely reminding himself that he won’t be wanted in the morning, that makes soft ribbing towards Jack’s quiet domesticity and in his own little Brock way respects it. Jack can see how he stands tall to look strong because the one he’s hiding needs it and all Jack wants is to stand up for the both of them.

In all the time Jack’s lost in his thoughts, Brock’s laid himself out and staring up at him, startling him back to reality when Brock’s fingers brush his cheek tentatively with his brows raised up in nervous question and Jack can only smile for a moment.

“Sorry,” He cupped the hand touching him, turning his face to kiss Brock’s palm, he can’t help it. Brock makes giving in so easy, “I was taking in all of you, appreciating how beautiful you really are like this.”

It’s immediate how Brock’s entire body blushes a soft shade of red especially around his cheeks and Jack’s completely enamored by it watching Brock open his mouth to say something, most likely a smart quip that’s going to depreciate himself because Jack’s picked up on that game already. Instead Jack leans down to catch his mouth and cut him off, kissing the words from his lips.

Nestled between his legs, warm heat radiates off Brock’s body and when they break apart Brock’s lightly trembling beneath him and staring up like he’s in some trance-like state and his eyes are begging for it. That practically innocent look of surprise wiped off his face and hands hold at Jack’s sides desperate and wanting, _please_ spilling off Brock’s lips in barely there whispers and Jack’s losing all the control he’s gathered and tried to keep so he doesn’t just take. Most of it slips away just by looking at Brock, body laid out against dark sheets, skin glowing against the light of the night sky and city lights. Jack can’t breathe, wanting to take him for as long as Brock allows him to, the head of his cock slowly sinking into Brock’s entrance, hands bracing at either side of the body beneath him, caging Rumlow in.

He only hesitates when Brock makes a small sound, pained and his body tenses without a word, eyes on him to read every reaction and feeling, his mind spinning and urging him to push and carry on, sparks of pleasure pulsing through his entire body and up his spine, Brock’s warmth promising to take him home. Sweat collects at Jack’s hairline, forcing himself to be patient and wait, watching Brock swallow and he stares up in a weird awe of surprise that Jack’s still, holding back for permission again instead of just taking and Brock nods, firm calloused hands gripping Jack’s biceps to pull him.

It’s all Jack takes as a prompt, gasping out softly, his face flushed from restraint and deep seeded control. He promised he wouldn’t hurt him no matter how much he wanted to take him as _his_. Finally pushing in further, careful and smooth, Brock’s fingers tighten into skin, sharp pinpricks of pain register as Brock keeps nodding and wants more, head dropping back begging for it and Jack can’t help the shudder he let’s out. 

When Jack’s fully inside, he settles against Brock to let him adjust knowing he’s a little _over average_ and has had enough people telling him so, lowering and planting a kiss at his collarbone He wonders if he could stay like this, nestled between this man’s legs and live here forever. Tight heat fit snug around his cock and it’s better than anything Jack thought, his mouth dragging up the column of Brock’s throat and along his sharp gruff jaw, a groaned whimper forcibly swallowed down when Jack feels arms lock around his body and pull him closer pushing him in impossibly deeper.

Brock gazes up at him and Jack can’t even fathom anything or anyone before this. There’s something too vulnerable and _real_ in his eyes, a cool exterior that had been up before but had since left, browns that are now so dark and open, now lost in a hazy drunken pleasure that’s full of need. He’s distracted and lost in all of Brock until strong legs tighten around him, ankles hooking together to lock him in and Jack’s body responds already thrusting into Brock to take him and _claim_ him. They’re both unbridled, Brock’s thighs snug firm around Jack’s body and working in sync with his rhythm. 

It takes a moment but when he notices tense features on Brock’s face, strain stretched against his brows he knows something’s wrong. Hands pressing against Jack’s shoulders like he might push him off at any moment instead of pulling him in and he realizes much too late that he’s been hurting Brock, not waiting to really see if he was ready and letting him pull him in. Jack’s stilling his hips and Brock’s focused on him again, coming back from the drift of pain and pleasure he was on with confusion written all over his face.

“Done already?”

Jack knows it’s meant to be a joke but there’s a pang of worry laced in his voice and Jack’s only looking down at him with his lips pressed in a frown as he tries to calm himself down waving away the urge to keep moving. He glares at Brock, giving his head a shake, “Shoulda told me I was hurting you.”

Brock’s staring at him with a cross between offense and surprise that he cares that much to worry about him and it just hits Jack a little harder than it did a few seconds ago.

“Don’t wanna hurt you." He’s hearing himself murmur, wholly honest to him, moving forward to press a kiss to Brock’s lips before Brock can even retort something back. Most likely wanting to say something to point out he’s not fragile and that he could take it like he most likely justifies to himself normally because it seems like that’s the story. Jack’s hips roll into Brock slow and careful. The breathy, startled sound Brock makes beneath him ripples through his skin, like millions of perfect little pinpricks of sunshine.

Brock concedes in not shooting something back even though Jack can tell he wants to. Instead he’s tightening his strong arms and thick muscular thighs tighter around to encourage Jack to carry on. Mind feeling cloudy all over again with lust, Jack is gentle and sweet only until Brock makes a noise comparable to a whine and then he draws back just enough so he snaps his hips forward with a skillful jerk. It punches the air out of Brock’s lungs, not prepared for the deliberate suffering way he pulls away only to slide himself in again, the slow drag of his cock grinding in torturously.

The way Brock’s losing himself, moaning out pitifully as he’s arching into him for more with fingers clawing at his back Jack stays at it, repeating it like a wonderful punishment. He draws out and pushes in patiently, rocking his hips in perfect torment, Brock’s hands dragging down to grab the meat of his ass and dig his dull fingernails in, pressing his hips down in desperation. Jack’s watching the sweat mist across Brock’s face, writhing beneath him hopelessly, “Fuck Jack!”

Jack's head's down, hot breath dancing against Brock's shoulder satisfied with another red blush of a mark, he leans by Brock's ear thrusting roughly and slapping hips harder against damp skin, “You like that huh?"

“Yeah- !” Brock manages to let out before another cry is torn out of his throat.

Jack’s sliding his hands along the underside of Brock’s thighs to push them back at either side of his chest, legs spread open and wide with his own weight bearing down almost folding him half, slamming his hips in with deeper thrusts. 

Brock’s pinned and panting raggedly, his eyes evidently at war with his own self to close but they stay open, Jack’s found himself lost in them forever, fingers bruising into taut flesh. Brock can’t stop a loud moan as he arches up needing more, Jack’s hand slipping off one thigh to grip at Brock’s cock keeping his rough rhythm as he strokes him to the timing of his hips. The moment Brock clenches around him, Jack’s losing his train of thought stuttering his strokes and overtaken by a hot rush of overwhelming euphoria ravaging his entire body and it’s almost too much for Jack to take in, never experienced something so strongly like all of _this_. 

“Don’t stop Jackie, don’t!” Brock cries out and surges to keep Jack pressed down against him, groaning heavier and his heart racing alongside Jack’s. 

The fond nickname is already affecting him, Jack can tell as he’s staring into eyes that should be gone in some other world but only gazes at him like it’s only always been him. He keeps his pace, though off rhythm now with Brock coiling around him tighter and muscles clenching. Brock suddenly gets _louder_ , strangled and pitched and Jack can feel him twitching in his hand and then he’s cumming between them and all over his stomach and he keeps stroking through his orgasm. It’s enough to push Jack himself over completely and that pooling heat inside of him erupts, feeling his vision narrow and he surrenders himself to the thunderous roar of blood rushing in his ears and the explosion of his world shattering over the most perfect man beneath him.

It takes Jack a moment and a catch of his breath to realize he’s collapsed entirely onto Brock not that the guy’s complaining, instead fingers are brushing through his sweat damp hair and there’s soft golden brown eyes staring at him almost with some deep affection to them. It’s nice and Jack wants this nice forever, he has no idea why he’s suddenly in full force over becoming domestic with a guy he barely knows but he can feel it surging through him and it’s burning into the core of him.

He can’t even move, instead he’s snuggling in and he probably shouldn’t but when Brock plants soft little kisses against his cheek like they aren’t supposed to separate he feels normal to want this. He’s all of a sudden starting to get some of the intimate things Bucky shares with him sometimes about Steve, like when he says he loves to watch him after they have sex, see the happy look on his face and the way he’s so pliant and relaxed after. Or how Bucky tells him one of the best things in the world is to see Steve smile. His hand runs down Brock’s side, picking up the scent of cigarette smoke and realizing Brock must taken one of out the pack on his bedside table while Jack was still trying to make sense of himself and immediately he hears a gentle noise at the back of Brock’s throat like a sigh he’s probably not supposed to hear and he noses Brock’s ear affectionately over it.

“Ain’t you a big cat when you wanna be.” Brock’s drawling out, his voice drifting away a little as he’s inhaling another drag.

Jack’s smiling against his skin at the observation, still not wanting to move but he feels the sudden shift in everything the moment it happens, Brock’s body becoming tense and his hand rests along Jack’s back awkwardly. He knows the switch, glancing up to see Brock’s got a partial smirk across his face like everything is good when it isn’t, not to Jack and maybe, just maybe not to Brock either.

“I should probably head on out, it was fun and all that see you never shit said after.”

Jack meets his gaze, even though Brock glances away, fixated on holding his cigarette between his fingers and flicking his thumbnail against his index to get an itch, “Except that we work in the same building so..it’s not exactly see you never.”

Brock’s smirk widens, albeit his eyes show off the bitterness in them, “Yeah well it’s easy to ignore someone, should work well for you and I’m pretty good at hidin’ that we fucked so you ain’t gotta worry.”

Jack reaches up, grabbing at Brock’s chin so he looks at him, “What if I said I don’t want you to leave, what would you say?”

“I’d be sayin’ you want another go old man?”

Pinching him lightly, playfully, Jack keeps his gaze, “I’m saying, maybe this is a little backwards but I want to get to know you better.”

There’s an immediate flicker of something in Brock’s eyes and he’s not allowed to look away, not right now when Jack is admitting something that might end up blowing up in his face especially since he’s still _inside_ of Brock and perhaps when he’s thinking back to everything he might add that to the multitude of reasons he was convinced to speak up in the first place. 

Brock’s own features are going through a selection of various emotions that splash across his face, anxiety in his eyes mixing with defensive anger and wariness, frown formed against his lips, “You don’t gotta butter me up and make me feel better after a fling, I ain’t gonna fall to pieces. I picked _you_ up, remember?”

Jack’s not giving up that easily, raising a brow at his act to deter him, “You think I’m the type to butter you up if you’ve already got one foot out the door for me? Look at my place, does it really scream ‘I’m glad you’re here, stay awhile’?”

He takes the cigarette away from Brock, resting it against the ashtray, “I want to take you out for coffee- ”

And Jack’s lifting a finger up in warning just as Brock opens his mouth to make a comment, watching it promptly snap closed.

“-I want to get to know you. I know you picked me up, but the second I saw you I was interested in you and yeah we are doing this backwards but I have a feeling we’re kind of meant to do everything backwards..” Jack shrugs, one lone bare shoulder lifting then falling back in place, “..Never really asked a guy on a coffee date with my dick still in him either so..I’m kind of at a loss right now.”

Brock’s staring at him in sudden disbelief, eyes dancing over his face when he suddenly barks out a laugh, his entire body erupting and his hands are gripping at Jack’s upper arms and Jack can’t do much of anything but smile at him, admiring how easily Brock’s vulnerable and open this way laughing against dark sheets they’ve just had sex on with his sweaty hair a little messed up but also still so very beautiful.

It takes the last lingering tension off the both of them, feeling Brock relax again and he’s staring in silent amusement, lips resting loosely together like he wants to make a joke, toying with it in his mind to but he chooses not to. Jack leans to one side against one elbow, carefully pulling himself and he can see the discomfort etch across Brock’s face no matter how fast it comes and then goes. 

“Sorry.” He mutters out, absently pressing a kiss to Brock’s bottom lip before he turns away, pulling himself up off the bed and strolls into the bathroom feeling eyes watching after him, a small smirk crossing his face. 

He soon comes back with a damp washcloth and climbs back in bed taking a peaceful moment to really take in Brock while he’s laid out with his arms tucked under his head and one knee bent lazily to the side while he has his eyes closed and a pleasant smile across his face. Jack was pretty sure this was something he wouldn’t generally see on a regular basis and he just signed a contract with the devil, he was confident Brock was far from docile in a normal environment. 

“What’re you up to?” Brock’s suddenly asking with a crack of an open eye, humor lacing his voice as he eyes the cloth and for a second Jack’s confused until he’s not and then he’s a little upset inside.

He doesn’t say anything, instead wanting to show Brock what he’s doing, cloth still warm from the hot water he presses it against tensed muscles and there’s minor surprise for Brock as it softly brushes against his skin and Jack parks himself by one of this thighs. He wipes down Brock’s stomach and quickly the confusion dissipates into relaxation and eyes close again. 

He focuses on smooth careful sweeps down his abs, all the way to Brock’s cock and eventually past it, making sure to remove any trace of what happened a few minutes ago, he hears Brock hum lightly and there’s a pink color to his cheeks. Jack can’t help but smile over it and that itself pushes away the realization that Brock has no idea what was going to happen with Jack holding a washcloth. He gets Brock to drink some water and just takes a second to admire him with a grin all content and looking happy.

“You gonna keep laying there like a lazy ass?”

Brock grins wider, “Mhm, gonna be extra lazy now that you said that.”

Jack balls up the cloth, tossing it into the open and eagerly awaiting laundry basket, he grabs a hold of the blanket to throw it over them, dropping himself down on top of Brock and straddling his hips. He manages to wrangle Brock’s tucked arms out from under his head shoving them above him and hard into the sheets leaning in just as Brock’s snapping his eyes open in startled surprise. 

Jack can feel Brock’s heart racing against his chest and he can only smirk teasingly at him, “Oh, you _like_ that do you?”

“Shut up," Brock grumps, trying to wiggle out of Jack’s hold and he interestingly gives up after one attempt, relaxing into it, “Maybe I outta take back my acceptance of a coffee date or whatever the hell you call that shit."

“You can't because you didn't accept it yet." And Jack presses his fingers in, just a little pressure around those rested wrists and Brock tries his damnedest to calmly breathe out, his face flushing.

“Is this how it’s gonna be? Manhandlin’ me if I don’t do what you want? I ain’t the type of guy you can do that to Rollins.”

The waver in Brock’s voice tells Jack otherwise, at least in this position, but he lets go all the same and he only smiles wider at the flash of disappointment that crosses the face beneath him. He tucks a finger beneath Brock’s chin and kisses him, gentle and sweet and Brock gives in to it, kissing him with a whimper before Jack draws back to stare into eyes half lidded lost in a daze, their noses softly nudging.

“You still haven’t said yes or no.”

He’s ghosting his lips, teasing him and Brock only moves his freed hands to smooth them down Jack’s back and rest them at his ass, “If you gonna give it to me like that every day Jackie I may just say yes.”

Jack can’t help the stupid grin he’s officially sporting across his face, dimples and all, kissing and murmuring against his lips affectionately because it’s all he wants to do with Brock, “I’ll give it to you any way you want me to Brock and then I’ll take care of you.”

Hands squeeze at the meat of him and Brock drops his head, sighing loudly as he’s blinking and staring out the window like he’s so damn surprised over the outcome, which is possibly true, “Shit, if I knew you were a sap like this awhile ago I woulda tried to get into your pants that day in the gym.”

“I woulda taken you back to my place that second.” Jack simply let’s out with a laugh, shifting to drop his head against Brock’s shoulder and lays himself out holding his weight up a little with his elbows.

Brock shakes his head, dramatically punching at the mattress, “Fuck.”

When he’s finally calmed a little, Jack lifts his head to glance at him, features softened and settling in, “Hey, I never asked if you like omelets.”

Lifting his head with a brow raised, Brock gives him a small nod, “Yeah, I like them plenty, why?”

Pulling the blanket tighter around them and pressing his face against the side of Brock’s neck, Jack runs his nose along the scruff against his jaw, “Wanna make you breakfast in the morning.” 

“Shit, now I _really_ wish I asked ya to fuck me at the gym, shit you’re boyfriend material Rollins.”

Jack can only make a small noise, nuzzling against skin not sure how to reply to that when Brock hasn’t even accepted a coffee date.

There’s a quiet lull laying in each others arms and Jack’s comfortable right now, he can give Brock some time. It’s only when he’s fully relaxed and floating along that happy line of sleep and being awake that Brock pinches his ass and startles him.

“Jack.”

“Hm?”

He’s hesitating to talk and it makes a knot in Jack’s stomach, lifting himself up to look at him carefully. Brock’s avoiding his eyes and he just feels worse with worrying about something being wrong. 

“Hey,” He rests a hand against Brock’s face, getting him to look his way, “Whatever you have to say, it’s okay to say it.”

Brock shrugs, “I just ain’t good at coffee dates or any dates of that matter. Never really went on ‘em before and well they’re a little boring, making shitty small talk and all that crap. I could never really be bothered with them.”

The disappointment settled inside of Jack, trying not to let it show on his face while he nodded, “Well, if you still want to stay for breakfast, I still want to make you some omelets or if you want to leave now that’s okay- ”

Letting out an annoyed huff, Brock slaps a hand over Jack’s mouth, “Hey Rollins, you always interrupt people when they’re wantin’ to talk to ya? I was tryin’ to say, even though now I’m feelin’ all fucked up about it. I was thinkin’ maybe you wanna I don’t fuckin’ know.. _Shit_ I beat up guys bigger than you in the ring and I can’t fuckin’ talk about shit right now.”

Jack pried Brock’s hand away, smirking at him, “Are you trying to say you wanna be boyfriends? You sure work fast..”

“Fuck off then,” Brock growls out lowly as he attempts to shove Jack off of him, defenses high and there’s a look on his face like he’s trying not to look like a fussing ten year old. “Dick.”

Grabbing Brock’s hands, Jack could only shake his head at him, pressing a kiss to lips that didn’t want to kiss him back and he didn’t mind, Brock nipping roughly at his bottom lip warningly. Jack ran his tongue against the spot, warm and flushed.

“You should know, before you start going on some miniature rampage,” 

Brock dutifully punches his shoulder, hard. 

“-I thought about that boyfriend crap the second you knew how to handle my vinyl.”

Brock raises a brow, “Is that a euphemism?”

A muffled laugh escapes Jack, shaking his head as he shifts to bury his face against the warmth of Brock’s neck and tuck his arms around his body effectively turning himself into a human blanket, “No I just wanna get together with you too okay? So shut the fuck up and get some sleep.”

Arms already tucking tight around Jack’s waist, Brock lets out a loud distinct snort, rubbing the back of his head along the pillow, “I don’t want you as my boyfriend now, you’re a shitty boyfriend.”

“Yeah, so are you.”

“Huh, good. We can be shitty boyfriends together.”

Brock’s stroking his hair, “I just might have just fallen for you Rollins.”

“Yeah?” He mumbles against Brock’s shoulder, lips planting lazy kisses, “Then we’re definitely made for each other because I’m feeling like that too.”

Glancing out at the lights, Brock sighs, “I guess we’re both fucked then.”

“Mhm, wouldn’t have it any other way.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. Bye. :3  
> [Story pic for Tumblr](http://kalika999.tumblr.com/post/149126185705/take-it-there-hydra-husbands-jacks-about-done)


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